


Life As A Disease

by Marie_Phantom



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00S - Freeform, Alternate Universe, M/M, Story Progression, Torture, Young Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Phantom/pseuds/Marie_Phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tiago never became Silva, M has no regrets, Bond is intrigued by the man with half a face and years of mental pain and strength, and Q is searching for a anchor and denies it every time.</p><p>The chronicle of Tiago and James, through Casino Royale to Quantum, and everything else in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Bond fic, so please be nice. I love Bond, and the recent Skyfall was simply in my humble opinion the best Bond ever.
> 
> I own nothing. Sadly.

 

 

It was only when she was on the plane, and sat down with a double finger of scotch next to her elbow, that M had the opportunity to actually look at the exchange contract that she was handed by the very irate Chinese delegate. The six men that she had managed to get, six agents thought to be dead, murmured quietly behind her and shifted in their seats.

 

‘I don’t know,’ she thought. ‘I don’t know.’ She shook herself and opened the first page. It would take a while to get to London, and the men had to be debriefed, and it was going to be a long time before she got to bed. She may as well waste a few hours reading the paperwork.

 

Her mind was slowly filtering through the words, trying to make some sense of them, before the name of the agent that was exchanged in turn caught her eye. She suddenly felt very cold.

 

“No.” She whispered under her breath.

 

She read the name again, and again, and again, until it was seared into her brain.

 

“Pilot!” M roared, bolting up from her seat and striding towards the cabin door. She wrenched it open and stormed into the cockpit, where the pilot sat in his seat, sweating but refusing to look at her.

 

“Turn this plane around.”

 

“No ma’am.” The pilot swallowed and his fingers tightened on the wheel.

 

“Turn this plane around now!”

 

“I have my orders ma’am. Plane is on course to Heathrow, not to deviate.”

 

“We exchanged the wrong man, we have to turn this plane around now.”

 

“Ma’am, I can’t. Downing Street gave me my orders, and to be quiet honest,” he turned in his seat and fixed her with a blank eye, “they trump you.”

 

M felt ill. She couldn’t fight Downing Street, as much as she might want to. She slowly went and sat down in her seat, numb to what was going around her. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the name that was on the paper, not the one that was meant to be there, but the one of the man she had sent to die.

 

The name should read _Alex Trevelyan_

It read instead _Tiago Rodriguez_.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Mummy?” Tiago stuck his head around the door and grinned at M, who was steadfastly ignoring him._

_“Muuuuuuuummmmmmmy?” he whined, slouching into the office and flopping down onto the sofa opposite her desk. She still didn’t acknowledge him. He pouted and leaned forward._

_“What?” She snapped. He laughed and clapped his hands, looking like a little boy rather than the grown man and double-00 that he was._

_“Just wanted to say hello.”_

_“Hello. Now get out.” M pointed at the door and went back to signing papers. There was a pause, and then she heard his footsteps getting closer. She ignored him again, keeping her focus on the papers and making sure that he knew that her attention was NOT on him._

_There was a breath in her ear, as he leaned over her shoulder to look at what she was writing. He hummed, and reached out to pluck the pen from her hand._

_“You work too hard.” He complained, spinning her around on her chair, making sure that she ended up facing him._

_“Some of us have to.” M glared at him, taking in his strong Spanish features. He grinned again and let her go, walking to her drinks cabinet and pouring out a measure of scotch. He turned around and handed it to her, his grin settling into a small smile._

_“What have you got for me?” M said after swallowing the scotch. It burned her throat but warmed her stomach, making her feel slightly better and more alert. Tiago shrugged a careless shoulder and leaned back against the wooden cabinets that adorned her office._

_“Nothing really. Still looking.” He made sure that she was always briefed and up to date with his progress and work, but Tiago being Tiago, he kept things to himself._

_“Look harder.”_

_His face sharpened and his eyes glinted. M refused to acknowledge the fission of fear that struck her. He was a double-00 for a reason, she had approved him. She knew him, better than he perhaps knew himself._

_“I work very hard, Mummy, I work hard and I still can’t find anything.” He spread his hands. “What do you want me to do?”_

_“009, you know as well as I do that there is a leak to the Chinese. You are the best hacker we have. We need you to find the leak and plug it.”_

_Tiago signed and ran a hand through his odd coloured hair. “I know, M, I know.”_

_There was a comfortable silence, one that happened only between good friends or people who knew each others souls. M allowed herself a bit of introspection. Tiago was her favourite, everyone knew this. He was her favourite because he did his job, he did it well, and he got results._

_M did not allow herself to think that he was her favourite because she was fond of him, because he reminded her of the son she had lost, because she needed a champion occasionally and he allowed himself to be that person._

_Tiago knew her too well. His eyes softened again and he placed his large hands on her shoulders._

_“When did you last sleep?”_

_M shrugged. She honestly didn’t know._

_Tiago hissed through his teeth and went to the corner, pulling down the bed and arranging it to how she would like it. M thought about protesting, and then she looked at the paperwork on her desk, and she felt like crying. So she allowed herself to guided to the bed, her jewellery and shoes removed and to be gently laid down on the bed._

_“You can sleep now. Sleeeeeeep.” Tiago stroked her hair, dutiful as any bodyguard. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off._

_Tiago waited until she was asleep, then he placed a light kiss on her forhead. He went to her desk, gathering up her papers and putting them into the file. He was about to leave the office, when the photograph of John caught his eye. He smiled gently at it._

_“Mummy will be safe with me. She will be.” He promised. M’s husband grinned at him from over the car, the last photograph taken before the blood clot took his life._

_He turned off the lights and went out of the door. He placed his finger to his lips when he saw Moneypenny, and she smiled at him in return._

_“Mother is sleeping now.”_

_“I won’t wake her up.”_

_“Good.”_

_Tiago left the office, and M slept in peace._

* * *

 

 

 

“Q.”

 

“M.”

 

There is silence on the line, and M hears Q take a deep shuddering breath. ‘Stay strong.’ She thinks.

 

“They took him. The PM knew of the man we were going to exchange, and they switched him.”

 

“I know. I saw.” Q swallowed and coughed.

 

“I am sorry.”

 

Q is silent, except for a little hitch in his breath, which betrays tears.

 

“Regret is unprofessional.” She says, trying to convince herself as well as the young man in the end of the phone.

 

“Is he dead?”

 

M doesn’t speak. She doesn’t know. She hoped so, because what awaited 009 was worse than death.

 

“Ma’am, if it is alright with you-”

 

“Denied.”

 

“Ma’am-”

 

“No. He is just a lost agent. We lost agents, we get more. We are MI6, we do not form attachments.”

 

There is silence, and then Q snarls “Keep telling yourself that, and you might believe it.”

 

M bristles. “One more word like that and I will have you fired.”

 

“Sorry.” Q isn’t sorry at all.

 

“The exchange has happened, we must move on. We do not look back, we only look for the enemies in the future.”

 

“Yes M.” The line went dead.

 

M leaned back in her seat and stared out of the window. She did not think of the obituary she would have to write. She did not think of the empty space in her office that 009 used to fill. She did not think about the drones she would have to look at, looking to see who would replace 009.

 

If a solitary tear slid down her face, no one would know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of I don't know how many. I am literally just writing this, I have no proper lag. Thanks to all those who sent kudos and commentated, reviews feed the authors soul!

_ 5 Months Later _

 

 

 

James Bond, Commander in the Royal Navy, first in his class for marksmanship, recently hand picked by the British Secret Service to serve Queen and Country, was bored.

 

Very, very bored.

 

Mind-numbingly so.

 

It doesn’t show, however. His stands straight, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. His eyes never wander, and his face never twitches. He is the epitome of concentration and poise, the very model of a British Secret Agent.

 

He was focusing on the backside of the delicious blond in front of him.

 

The man talking to them had a soporific voice. It was not boring, in fact it is quite pleasant to listen to. Mallory was a man who commanded attention, and God know James had tried to give it to him, but he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were glazing over of their own violation.

 

The murmur around him reached a pitch, and he startled without visibly doing so. People were moving, shuffling off to wherever they were moving on to next. James fell into step with them, felt like a member of a herd of sheep.

 

He was about to focus on the blonds arse again, as it swayed tantalisingly in front of him, when a young man in glasses caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and frowned as he saw the man, barely more than a boy, hurrying towards a set of oak doors. He tapped a code onto the pad, and hurried through. The door didn’t close all the way behind him.

 

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’ James was in a dilemma. Stay and remain bored with the rest of the group, and possibly become an MI6 agent. Or go through the door, find something interesting and end the start of a promising career in espionage.

 

The choice wasn’t really that hard.

 

James slipped out of the group, making sure that he didn’t brush against anyone, and was through the door before anyone had a chance to notice. Inside were pleasant oak panelling, tasteful painting and big airy windows. James immediately found the exit points and the security cameras and moved through the corridor like he belonged there. James would later realize that this was the moment that put him on M’s radar. But for the moment, he was a civilian making his way through a place he didn’t belong.

 

There was silence all around him, and nothing at all to indicate that the man with the glasses had been there. James frowned.

 

“This is going badly.” He muttered to himself. James was both a cautious man and a reckless one, something that had put him at odds with his various schools. He needed to know exactly what he was getting himself in to, and in this case, he may have jumped into the water without finding out how deep it was.

 

The silence was pleasant, something to be savoured. It was peaceful, James reflected, as if permanently kept that way. For what or whom, James was intrigued and he was determined to find out.

 

He followed the sunlight, noticing that the windows got bigger the further along he went, until there were more windows that wall. Bond was even more intrigued by the changes, and he felt that whatever was going was something that even the normal agents didn’t know about.

 

At the end of the corridor was a wall, which James quickly determined was solid brick. On either side were a series of doors. One door was ajar, and, flattening his back against the wall, James peered inside and found the young man with his back to the door, fiddling on a computer system that made James’ own computer look like a Kindle.

 

James frowned and crept back from the door, not making any noise. He made a decision then to explore the rest of the rooms, to try and find out what MI6 were hiding. He may be sacked before he even started, but he as determined to have his answers.

 

James had always been a ‘canny lad’, something his family’s gamekeeper Kincaid called him, and this trait had always brought about mixed results. In this case, it meant that James was about change his life in so many ways; he would look back and wonder what would have happened had he walked back out of the door.

 

He had his fill of doors to pick from, and he chose the one directly opposite the room with the man in. He opened the door slowly, and found a physio room, one designed to help those with severely atrophied muscles. James pursed his lips and closed the door again. He felt … odd.

 

James Bond did not predict the future, but he was good at reading people, and he was very good at connecting dots. And James Bond had a feeling that whatever was going on here was connected to his last mission with the Royal Navy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Oh fucking hell.” James frowned at the voice from the comm in his ear, as he pounded across the deck of the Chinese warship. It had breached international waters, something that the British Government, in all its tolerance, was not going to allow._

_“Peterson, report.” James barked, slowing to a crouch and looking around a drum to see what was around the corner. Nothing. The deck was empty._

_James frowned, but continued on towards the belly of the ship. His mission brief was to find the hidden cache of weapons that the British had been assured was on the ship. This seemed like a cake-walk, but something in James’ gut told him that there was more to this. And James had always learned to trust his gut._

_“Sir, there’s-” the radio crackled with static, and James frowned._

_“Peterson, PETERSON, report damn you!” James rarely got emotional, it was something that he detested and found to be a weakness of character. But he was frustrated, and angry, and he felt that he had been played._

_“Peterson, give me your whereabouts.”_

_“NO!” Peterson roared over the comm, and James winced as his ear drum vibrated in response. “Sir, for the love of God, we need a medic!”_

_“A medic? Who for?” James asked. If one of his men was hurt…_

_“They have,” James could hear Peterson gulp, and his own stomach dropped. “They have a prisoner.”_

_James closed his eyes. ‘Training, remember your training.’ His mind was running amok, conjuring up images and scenarios that were feeding his imagination._

_“Status Peterson, I need his current status.”_

_“He’s, oh god, he’s unconsciousness, and, Jesus, I can’t see much of him.”_

_“Light something, help you to see better.” James had by that point pulled out his tracker and was tailing Peterson, following the blinking red dot to the bowels of the ship._

_“No sir, it’s blood. It looks like he’s been skinned.”_

_James ran faster._

_“aaaahhhhhh…” There was a brief exhale of air across the comm, and Peterson swore loudly and colourfully._

_“Fuck, sir, he woke up.” Peterson sounded panicked, and there was scrabbling as, from the sound of it, they unchained the prisoner._

_“Bond.” James jerked to a halt and nearly ran into a wall._

_“Sir.” It was his commanding officer, and James felt that, whatever it was, it was connected to the prisoner._

_“Bond, I want you to listen very carefully to me. Go to the relief team and get the medic.”_

_“Sir, I really think that it should-”_

_“You will do as I say Bond, or it is an immediate court marshal and suspension from duty.” Never had Bond’s superior sounded so cold and commanding. James felt a flutter of rage in his stomach, and clenched his jaw to prevent himself from answering back._

_“Yes sir.”_

_James turned and ran back to the relief boat, his stomach seething with rage, and his mind blank. He gave his orders to the relief team, and was just about to yank him comm out of his ear when he heard a weak voice filter through the line._

_“…009…Q…_ _dios me ayude…M…”_

_James Bond, famously able to distance himself from any emotion, able to work and complete jobs that no other person could, leaned over and threw up over the side of the ship._

* * *

 

 

James opened the door after the physio room and stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. He allowed himself 1 minute to breath, savoring the fact that he appeared to have got away with sneaking in to a top secret facility, before he opened his eyes and surveyed the room he was in.

 

The walls were painted a pleasant light blue, almost cloud blue, and soft sunlight was being filtered through the open window, casting a glow throughout. The room was cool, with clean air being pumped softly into it, and it gave the impression of an artificial breeze being wafted slowly through. The room itself was big and open, with a screen pulled across one end of it, and soft carpeting. There was a chest of drawers, a wash basin with basic toiletries, and a bookcase filled to the brim with books.

 

James looked around and narrowed his eyes. He felt that, if he concentrated hard enough, he could hear the soft sounds of someone asleep behind the screen. James crept forward cautiously, making sure that he placed his feet carefully on the carpet so as not to make any noise. He rounded the corner and looked upon the man lying in the bed.

 

James felt that he was looking at a plague victim. The man was thin, very thin, with his visible eye socket sunk deep into his skull. His hair, an amazing shade of blond, was cropped close to his head, and the hand that was resting on his chest was red raw. He was missing his fingernails.

 

James cocked his head and felt as though he had possibly violated something sacred. He backed away slowly, and turned his back, when a voice from the bed made him stop.

 

“What…are you…doing?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting there! I can only guess what Tiago's voice will be like, so give it a chance. Also, chapters are getting longer, so there will be more plot involved eventually.
> 
> Review feed me soul, and through that, you get fic!

‘Bugger.’ James thought. He turned on his heel and faced the man in the bed, who had not moved from him pillow but had opened his eyes, revealing irises the colour of tar.

 

“Who…are you?” The man asked, struggling to speak.

 

“Commander Bond, James Bond.”

 

The man smiled into his pillow. “Royal Navy, eh? They are…recruiting… young… now.” James frowned at the statement, but didn’t want to contradict him. When the man sensed that James wasn’t going to say anything, he heaved himself up onto his elbow and stared at him out of the corner of his eye. The right side of his face was still turned to the wall.

 

“Why…are…you here?”

 

James didn’t answer. He felt uncomfortable in this man’s presence, and he knew that he should leave. He wanted to leave, but his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor. The man, seeing as he was going to get no answer, clenched his jaw.

 

“Will you not…answer me?”

 

James swallowed. “I can see that I interrupted your beauty sleep-”.

 

James got that far before an explosion of noise came from the man. He threw his head back and his shoulders shook, and the noise coming from his throat sounded like a chainsaw cutting through glass. It took James a couple of minutes to realise that the man was laughing.

 

“Beauty…sleep!” The man guffawed, as much as he could. “You are a…funny man…Mr Bond!” The man continued to giggle, raising a hand to wipe the side of his face James could not see.

 

The man’s laughter eventually subsided, and he lapsed back into a thoughtful air, fully aware that James was growing more and more uncomfortable standing there. If that man had made the effort to wake him up, he was damn well going to suffer for it.

 

James eyed the man as he stood up on shaky feet, gripping the rail running along the wall, and made his way to an adjoining door that was cleverly hidden in the wall. James heard the sound of the man groaning as he sat down, then the sound of the toilet flush and the man came back out. Backwards.

 

“If it is all the same to you sir,” James said, starting to get bored again, “I’ll be going.”

 

“I’d rather you…didn’t.” The man replied. He still had his back to James, and James was starting to get irritated by the fact that he could not see the man’s face. What ever the man was hiding, James wanted to know.

 

“I get…bored here. On my own.” The man turned his head and looked at James in the corner of his eye. “You understand…I think.”

 

James’ mouth twitched. He liked this man, who shared the same sense of humour and wit. The man grinned with the visible part of his face and continued to shuffle his way back to the back, glancing over his shoulder to see where he was going.

 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to turn around?” James asked, after spending a minute watching this odd performance.

 

“It would…but where would the…challenge be?”

 

“Stubborn, then.”

 

“To the…last.” The man laughed again, and eventually sat down back onto the bed, the right side of his face never having been exposed to James.

 

“Since you know my name, may I know yours?” James asked, a smile curling his voice.

 

“Aaaaahh, my name, my name.” The man rocked back and forth, his hands clasped between his knees, and he stared at the ceiling. “Do you know, James, how powerful…a…name really…is?”

 

James frowned, his good mood dimming slightly. Why, when he had asked such a simple question, had the man decided to get philosophical on him? A simple answer, for a simple question. Was it really to much to ask?

 

“A name…it is…very important.” The man continued to rock, the action becoming repetitive and mesmerising. “I will tell…you my name.”

 

“If a name is so important, why tell me?” James moved closer. The man was becoming quieter, slowly and slowly, starting to creep back into a shell of his own making, becoming a hermit. Something James could relate to.

 

“I see myself…in you.” The man smiled, sharp as a knife, delicate as a sliver of glass. “You are…so _young_.”

 

“Youth aside, why tell me something as damning as your name, when you say it contains such power?” James was getting closer.

 

“A name…power. You will…go far…I think.” The man stopped rocking and turned even more towards James. He was still hiding his face, but his eye was fixed on James, and his smile was growing manic.

 

“I will give…you my…name. Use it…and you will rise…go higher than you…ever thought.” The man turned his head slowly towards James, and now James could see what the man had been trying to hide.

 

‘His face, oh Jesus his face.’ James kept the horror out of his own, but the sunken cheek, the drooping eye and the gaping cavern of a mouth, James knew that this was a man who had seen hell.

 

“My name…is…Tiago Rodriguez.” The man, Tiago, grinned as much as he could and leaned in close. James did not move. He would not move. He couldn’t move.

 

Tiago’s eye’s flickered to his lips and back to James’ eye’s. They did not break contact again, until Tiago patted James on the cheek and leaned back.

 

“You will be…a good…agent.” He breathed. His eyes flickered once again to James’ lips and he touched them. James didn’t move. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine, and he knew that, whatever Rodriguez had done, what had happened to him was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

James didn’t want to break the silence, so he was secretly pleased that he heard a voice behind him, which shattered the calm in the room.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The young man, the one with the glasses and the black wavy hair, was glaring at James from the opposite side of the room. James himself was standing in front of a desk, where what James could only describe as a hawk in human form was glaring at him.

 

“So,” she began, her eyes turning even colder, “you got bored.”

 

“Incredibly bored, ma’am.”

 

“And so, to alleviate your boredom, you decided to follow an unknown man into a corridor that you didn’t know, to try and find secrets that don’t belong to you.”

 

 “That’s about the sum of it ma’am.”

 

“Did it never occur to you that you have breached private and secure space within MI6, and you will be subject to disciplinary action?”

 

“The thought had occurred to me, ma’am.” Behind him, James heard a stifled snort.

 

“And yet, you still went. Now,” M stood up, and walked slowly around her desk, coming to face James. James no longer cared what was going to happen to him, he knew that he had ended before he had started, but it had been worth it. “if I had my way, you would be out of here so quickly your feet wouldn’t touch the floor. But, 009 has given you approval for fast tracking.”

 

James frowned, whilst he heard the man behind him mutter “Bloody mistake.”

 

“009?” he asked.

 

“Rodriguez. He has spoken highly of you.”

 

“Ma’am, I only met him for 5 minutes.” James didn’t know why he was objecting, but he felt that he would have preferred to be judged on his merit, rather than the word of someone he had only just met. Having said that, he didn’t mind being considered for fast tracking by a double-00.

 

M snorted. “For some reason Rodriguez fancies himself to be an excellent judge of character, and he has taken a shine to you, God only knows why.”

 

James raised an eyebrow. He felt a smug stirring of surprise as he listened to what M was saying. If he had made an impression…

 

If he had made an ally…

 

“Regardless of what 009 thinks, I still would prefer you to see go through the full training and evaluation course.” M said, walking past him and going to the door where Moneypenny was standing, holding a sheaf of papers. M took them and walked back to James, fluttering them at him.

 

“Your discharge papers.”

 

James took them and looked down. Honourable discharge, full honours and a nice little mention on his CV. He smiled and looked up.

 

M didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled, and she looked proud for half a second.

 

“Welcome to MI6, Mr Bond.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am so happy that people like my little story, I am getting really excited for when Skyfall comes out on DVD. Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, they really do mean a lot to me.

Two months into training, and James, whilst still certain that MI6 was the right and proper path for him, was going to kill someone then next time that they made him run the obstacle course affectionately called the Gauntlet.

 

His muscles ached, his back was killing him, he was pretty sure that he had broken his right hand and he had just obtained a chipped anklebone.

 

“Good news Bond,” the doctor said, “ you can walk on it. But I recommend taking it easy.”

 

James rolled his eyes, but nevertheless stood up and tested his weight on his leg. He buckled, but gritted his teeth and made sure the he didn’t actually fall. He didn’t think his knees would take one more collapse.

 

“Thanks.” James said and walked out, pulling down the leg of his trousers as he walked. He felt furious with himself. He was training to be a double-00, the top agent, and his own body was besting him.

 

He limped his way to the training barracks, and settled himself onto his cot. James cooled the anger running through his veins, and kept his head level. He stared at the wall opposite him and mentally went through what he had done today. He mentally ran the Gauntlet, trying to find fault, trying desperately to improve.

 

“I don’t know why you try so hard.” James looked up at the sound of his roommate as he entered and hung up his towel. In this environment, nudity and shyness were no longer compatible. James allowed his eyes to sweep the body in front of him, knowing that whilst looking accepted, fraternising would get you instantly expelled.

 

“I try to succeed, a concept surely everyone should know.” James stripped off his shirt and started doing push ups against the floor, knowing that his roommate would be looking in turn.

 

“Oh, we do.” James’ roommate moved to the shared chest of drawers, and starting pulling out clothes for the evening. “It is in our nature. But some people find it more difficult than others.”

 

James didn’t pause, but allowed himself to slow down as his roommate dressed. They were finer clothes than usual.

 

“Going out this evening?” James pushed himself up and started to stretch. His roommate looked at him and grinned.

 

“Some others are going out to drink, pick up someone, fuck.” His roommates smile became wider and sharper. “You should come.”

 

“Not my kind of thing.”

 

His roommate snorted. “You’re a liar.”

 

“Liar I may be, but I don’t fancy catching some unknown and untreatable disease from anyone tonight. You go, come back, and I’ll be there to wipe the vomit off of the floor.”

 

His roommate laughed louder and slapped him across the shoulders, whilst walking towards the door. “You need to relax Bond. You have been tense since you arrived here.” The head cocked, and a quizzical smile swept across the face. “What are you trying to prove?”

 

“Piss off.” James said, still with his back turned to the door. He heard his roommate laugh again, and their footsteps echo down the corridor.

 

James turned back to the room and surveyed it. His roommate was right, he did need a drink. James dis not do well when it came to downtime, it was well known that he had once taken apart a car engine and then put is back together when he had become bored in the past. The car in question had been the Operation Manager’s car, whom had since harboured a special hatred for James. Never mind that James had improved the running quality, the horsepower and the overall speed.

 

James Bond was in danger of getting bored again. And nothing decent ever came from James getting bored.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Still stalking him?”

 

“It is not stalking…it is…observation.”

 

Q rolled his eyes and leaned over Tiago’s shoulder, watching as Bond traversed the Gauntlet yet again.

 

“He’s getting faster every time.”

 

“He learns. He is…good at what he does.”

 

“Are you changing the course?” Q took a sip from the mug he held and leaned forward so his head was resting on Tiago’s shoulder. Normally Q wouldn’t do anything of the sort, but he was tired, and Tiago allowed it. “Maybe he’s getting faster because he now knows the route and can anticipate what will happen next.”

 

“So sceptical…Q. It changes every time.” Tiago ruffled the hair on Q’s head and leaned forward onto the laptop, typing in a series of code that would allow him to access the computer of the Operations Manager. Bond needed to be further challenged.

 

Q hummed and set down his mug, stretching upwards and feeling his back click. Tiago glanced over and then went back to his screen.

 

“Staying up…late, writing codes?” He tutted as much as he could. “Naughty boy…you’ll go blind that way.”

 

“Oh ha bloody ha.” Q groaned as he twisted around and felt his back give further. “Given your obsession with Bond, I’m surprised you still have eyes left in your head.”

 

Tiago snorted. “I know…you’re tired, when you…start…making…sex jokes.” Nevertheless, he turned off the laptop and put it beside his bed. He then stretched out and whined as his tense muscles relaxed.

 

“Mummy not baby sitting tonight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Nope.” Q settled down in a chair and pulled out his own laptop. “She’s busy trying to prevent the Middle East from crumbling.”

 

“Ha.” The soft exhalation was barely audible from the bed as Tiago settled down to sleep again. Although it had been roughly two and a half months since he had been rescued, Tiago still got tired very easily. Getting him to sleep in the first month had been a marathon challenge, as he had been conditioned to only sleep when he was told to.

 

And M had refused to wheel that kind of power over 009.

 

There was silence, as Q tapped at his code, and Tiago allowed himself to start drifting off. Q was getting used to the quiet breaths when Tiago said “He was on the…boat.”

 

“The boat?” Q questioned, closing his screen down and focusing on the man in the bed.

 

“When I came back.” Tiago nodded tiredly into his pillow. “I remember his…voice.”

 

Q didn’t say anything. He reached out a hand and grasped Tiago’s fingers tightly, squeezing when Tiago finally slipped off to sleep with a shiver.

 

“I missed you. So damn much.” Q whispered. He continued to run his thumb along Tiago’s for a while. Tiago was asleep, not very deeply, but it was the first sleep in a while. Q only hoped it would be without dreams.

 

Q gently pulled his hand free and opened his computer again, filling in code and observing the people and their technology from within the building. It was simple for him, fun and relaxing. It was just what he needed at the moment, when his emotions were still so raw and close to the surface.

 

“Q.” Q turned and saw M standing in the doorway. She looked tired, and her hair was dishevelled, as if she had been running her hand through it all day. Q set his laptop down and went to the door, making sure that he kept inside the room.

 

“How is he?” M asked, peering at Tiago.

 

“Tired. Still observing Bond.”

 

“His obsession with the boy seems to be bordering on the manic. Is there something we’re missing?” Q shook his head.

 

“I don’t think so.” There was silence, and both people went up to the bed where their charge was asleep. Q picked up his laptop and finished his work, powering down and slipping it softly into his bag.

 

“Bond was on the ship that found him.” Q didn’t know why he told her, he didn’t know why the information was important. But M’s eyes widened, and she sat in down hard in the chair Q had just vacated.

 

“He says,” Q swallowed the lump suddenly in his throat, “he says that he heard Bond’s voice.”

 

“Oh.” M said nothing more after that only turned back towards Tiago and pulled out a book. Q silently left the room, closing the door softly behind him and leaving M and Tiago together.

 

He didn’t worry about Tiago. Tiago had M there.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Bond was still awake when his roommate came back, reeking of sex and stumbling into the room. He was reading an article about improving muscle tone when his roommate plonked themselves down on the bed and observed him through narrowed eyes.

 

“Why are you so far ahead?”

 

“What do you mean?” James asked. He put down the magazine and gripped his roommate under the arms, carrying them to their bed.

 

“You came here two months ago, and you are now equal to me. How?”

 

“Maybe I’m just that damn good.”

 

“Nooooooooo, no it’s something else.” His roommate pouted and nearly crossed their eyes trying to think.

 

“I know!” James nearly jumped as his roommate screamed in his ear. “You have a sugar daddy!”

 

“What?” James nearly laughed.

 

“You know someone, up high.” Up the finger went, pointing to the heavens.

 

“Much as you might like to think, I don’t actually believe in God.” His roommate snorted and shook their head hard.

 

“NO, I mean, in MI6.”

 

James sighed and continued to manoeuvre his roommate to their own bed. His roommate wobbled and then flopped down onto their face.

 

“You have something you’re working for. I know you do.” They muttered into their pillow. James didn’t reply, but he didn’t have time to. His roommate was asleep. James pursed his lips, pulled the blanket over her and went back to his own bed.

 

He lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Severine had said. She was right, he was aiming for something. He was aiming for someone.

 

He was looking for 009.

 

He was looking for the man with half a face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My pattern seems to be an update every four days. I am getting there, just waiting for the release of Skyfall, then I can go mad! Cheers to all of those people who have left comments and kudo's!

_ A Year Later _

 

 

 

“Hello Mr Bond.” James looked up slowly to see who had spoken to him, and swallowed his martini hastily. Dark eyes sparkled, and 009 flopped into the seat opposite James.

 

“009.”

 

“You remember me. Oh, I’m so happy.” 009 made a gesture with his hands, and a waiter appeared out of the shadows with a small glass of port. He placed it in front of Tiago Rodriguez, who turned and handed a £50 note to the waiter.

 

“You’re looking better.” James gestured with his glass, and Tiago laughed with delight.

 

“Trying to get my secrets James? Naughty boy.” He grinned at James, his teeth shining pearly white. James remembered the last time 009 had smiled at him. He had had about 3 teeth left, and to call them teeth would be generous.

 

“You were the one who gave those secrets up in the first place. You told me your name.”

 

“Mmmmm, I suppose I did. I wonder why?” 009 took a small sip from his glass and looked at James through the corner of his eye.

 

“How the bloody hell should I know?” James asked.

 

“Oh James, if you want to make a double-00, you need to think like one. Look ahead, plan contingencies. Look at information and see where it fits into the grand scheme of things.”

 

James was considering this, and was about to take another drink of his martini, when 009 asked “Do you believe in fate, Mr Bond?” James nearly choked.

 

“Not at all 009.”

 

009’s face registered surprise, and he stared at James as if he had grown another head when 009 wasn’t looking.

 

“Really? Given what has happened, I would have thought you would have been the first person to admit so.”

 

“What do you mean, what has happened?” James quickly darted his eyes around the room, locating all of the escapes and exits. He felt disconcerted, odd. 009 was looking at him like he was a perfectly cooked steak, and 009 hadn’t eaten in days.

 

“Oh, well, we share very similar pasts.” James went still. “We both love our country, in my case my adopted one. We are both loyal, and this will prove to be our downfall.” 009 didn’t look at James as he said this. He was looking at the mirror opposite him, staring into his own eyes. James wondered what he was trying to see in them.

 

“I have proved my loyalty to no one.”

 

“Oh, but you have.” 009 smiled at him. “You stayed with the training.”

 

“Because I was compelled to.” James was angry that this man, someone who be barely knew, was pointing out all of his flaws so easily.

 

“Because you were loyal to something, Mr Bond. What was it?” 009 tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at James, and James felt that penetrating stare go deep into his own eyes.

 

“Loyalty is a concept held by fools.” James spat.

 

“Ah then Mr Bond, we are all fools in this business.” 009 stood up and adjusted his suit, flattening out any creases and making sure that the lines were neat and straight. He pulled on his black leather coat, and then placed a hand on James’ shoulder.

 

“When you are done lying, Mr Bond,” he breathed into James’ ear, “I’ll see you.” He patted James on the shoulder, and left without disturbing the air.

 

It took James an hour to finish his martini. It was hard to swallow with a lump in your throat.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

To an agent working in MI6, Q-Branch was equivalent to a sweet shop. There were so many things a person could have, some many different gadgets and contraptions. Nowadays, it was all very sleek and streamlined. There were no longer trays that would cut off a person’s head, sofa’s that swallowed you whole or cassette players with rocket launchers built into them. Now, it was all technology that would fit into the palm of your hand, or indeed, under you skin. Still, to an agent, it was a Christmas market. And everything was free.

 

James strode through the people working at tables around him, every one of them plugged in to a computer, only a handful of them with soldering irons next to their elbows. Although he was interested, and he was, he had been told to report to Q.

 

“You’ll know him when you see him.” That was all Moneypenny had said over the phone, trying and failing to keep the smile out of her voice.

 

James kept walking, glancing from left to right and keeping his eyes open for someone who looked even vaguely familiar. He didn’t know what he was looking for. An old man with white hair? Someone with a moustache and a vague professorial air about then?

 

When James saw Q however, he was not amused.

 

“You?”

 

“Me.” Q replied in a flat tone, not looking up from his computer. He was busy creating an algorithm that would hide the original server of a code, even if someone managed to trace the code back to it’s original source. One of his better safeguards, and he had many.

 

“Is something wrong?” Q asked, finally looking at James and pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

“You still have spots.” James felt mildly offended that he was about to be handed documents by a boy who looked like he had only just discovered the use of a computer.

 

“My complexion is hardly relevant.” Q raised an eyebrow at James and stood up, walking around his desk and making sure that James knew who’s office he was in now.

 

“Your competence is.”

 

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”

 

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”

 

Q gritted his teeth in annoyance. “I’ll hazard I could do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjama’s before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.”

 

James nearly snorted in amusement, but thought better of it. “Oh, so why do you need me?”

 

Q sighed, like he wished it were otherwise. “Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.”

 

“Or not pulled. It’s hard to know which in your pyjamas.”

 

Neither man broke eye contact, before Q let a reluctant smile flitter across his face. “I can see why he likes you.”

 

James did not ask whom. He didn’t need to. There was only one man that they both had in common, and given the small amount of time between 009 seeing him and being summoned to Q-Branch, James felt as though he had been tested and he didn’t even know about it.

 

Q walked to a cabinet and pulled out a set of keys. James followed him, and watched as Q inserted the keys into a lock. James was expecting a secret panel to reveal itself, or the wall opposite to slide back. However all that happened was that Q opened a drawer, rummaged around and pulled out an envelope.

 

“Ticket, passport and cover story.” Q explained, handing it over. When he saw James looking at the cabinet, he smirked. “It’s so overt, it’s covert. What were you expecting, sliding hidden doors?”

 

“It’s a bit bland.” James said, watching as Q visibly bristled with indignation.

 

“The war is being fought electronically now, you philistine. Either evolve or die.”

 

“Survival of the most intelligent.” James muttered.

 

“Indeed. And I am top predator.” Q went back to his desk and sat down again, effectively tuning James out. James, feeling slightly snubbed, what about to leave when Q said, “You’re to report to M. She has an assignment for you. Assisting a double-00, I think.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Hello again James.” James was not surprised that the double-00 he would be assisting. Whether it was God, Fate or M, someone really had it in for him.

 

“I see you are already acquainted with 009.” M didn’t look up from her desk, already signing the mission briefs.

 

“We’ve met.” James continued to eye the man, who was lounging against the window, his eyes turned toward the London skyline. 009 smirked, and shifted his weight against the window so that he was standing upright. He then turned and fixed James with that shark smile again.

 

“I know.” M allowed the silence in her office to grow, until James was starting to fidget, and even 009 was looking bored.

 

“Well, now I have managed to get you two together, lets go through your mission.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Yes mummy.”

 

James whipped his head around to stare at 009, but the agent was steadfastly ignoring James, focusing on M.

 

“There’s been a disturbance in Syria. One rogue agent had managed to get his hands on a series of nuclear launch codes and is threatening to sell to the highest bidding terrorist group. We need you, 009, to find out exactly how much information he has, to get it, and to eliminate him.”

 

“Oh, this sounds like fun.” 009 rubbed his hands together with glee and accepted the documents from M.

 

“Bond.” James looked at M. “You will be assisting 009 with reconnaissance.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“You will do what he says when he says it. 009 is one of the very best field agents.”

 

James nodded and was about to follow 009 out of the office, when he heard M call out from behind him.

 

“Bond.” James turned. “I think you ought to know that 009 requested you specifically. I suggest to learn from him.”

 

“Thank you M.”

 

“Oh, and one more thing Bond.” M had since gone back to organising papers, but her eyes did flitter up to meet his. Her gaze was cold.

 

“009 is somewhat of a loose cannon. Keep an eye on him.”

 

James smirked. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some non explicit sexual scenes ahead.

James knew that the minute he stepped out of M’s office, he would be at the mercy of 009. And yet, he never hesitated once.

 

“I am so pleased to be working with you.” 009 had been leaning against the desk, talking to Moneypenny, but when he saw James he straightened up and rubbed his hands together.

 

“You were the one that requested me, Sir.”

 

“Yes, but that does not mean I cannot be pleased about my decision.” He leaned over the desk and pecked Moneypenny on the cheek, and then strode out of the office. James followed, feeling like a puppy following its master but not making any fuss about it.

 

Together they exited MI6, and James stood back as 009 hailed a taxi. They both climbed into the back and 009 leaned forward to speak to the driver.

 

“Saville Row.”

 

“Why are we going there?” James asked, shooting 009 a confused look. 009 grinned at him a settled back.

 

“You don’t have a dinner jacket.”

 

“How is that relevant to the mission? I thought we were to apprehend a terrorist informant, not wine and dine him.”

 

009 sighed like he was dealing with a child, and leaned over to look James in the eye. “A good agent prepares for any event, not just the one stated in the mission brief. And I for one do not want to be embarrassed by an agent showing up like he had been dragged backwards through a hedge.”

 

James bristled. “I’ll have you know that I have very good fashion sense.”

 

009 gave him a withering look. “I know, James, but the suit you’re wearing is from Marks and Spencers. It looks ghastly.”

 

“Excuse me if I don’t spend all of my money looking like I’ve just come from a meeting with the board of directors.” James was in a snappy mood. He had been ever since he left the office and he was alone in a car with a man whom he couldn’t read, as much as he tried.

 

“Oh James, to be young again.” 009 sounded wistful. He was gazing out of the window, following the flow of buildings. “James, if you have the right presence, you can open all kinds of doors.”

 

James didn’t say anything to that. He was thinking about what 009 had said, about looking the part. He knew that 009 was right, and he knew that he looked like he had just stepped out of public school, but that didn’t mean that James wanted it pointed out to him. James had never dealt well with criticism. Rules and regulations were something that he grated against, and from what he was able to tell from 009, it was the same with him. 009 was just able to hide it better.

 

They sat in silence, aside from the occasional humming tune from 009, as they made their way to the tailors of the rich, famous and well dressed. James had already managed to guess where 009 got his suits done, garish colours aside.

 

‘To each his own.’ He thought, and let his mind drift.

 

It took 10 minutes to get to the place where 009 wanted to go, and James then spent the next four hours enduing ritual humiliation as he was stripped down, measured and touched in places that hadn’t seen another man’s hand since Fettes College.

 

“Touch me up the leg one my time and I’ll take your hand.” He said softly to the young man measuring his inseam. The boy looked up, startled, and moved away, muttering something about “People with no idea.”

 

“James, you have to let them do their job.” 009 didn’t look up from the magazine he was reading.

 

“How can I help it if I feel as though I’m being propositioned?”

 

“You should be so lucky, James. In your old clothes, no one would have looked twice at you.”

 

If James had been 5 years younger, he would have leapt to his own defence. Now, he just narrowed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and allowed the men to finish their measuring. When they had finished, the men cleared away, and James donned his clothes in record time. Now that he was suited and booted again, he felt better. Not secure, but better.

 

“Well, now we got to the airport.” 009 had stood up and was stretching his arms above his head, his shirt riding up a little it to reveal pale white flesh, intersected with raised purple lines. James frowned, and 009 glanced over sharply. His eyes dulled, and he clenched his jaw. James quickly averted his eyes, and 009 put his shirt to rights.

 

They exited the shop together, with James’ suit across one arm, and got another taxi to the private hanger at Heathrow, which housed the private jet that only the top MI6 agents used.

 

“Mummy trying to please me.” 009 smirked, and boarded the jet like he owned it. James followed, eyeing the plush interior and the drinks cabinet.

 

“Naughty boy, no alcohol for you until the mission is complete.” 009 tapped him on the nose and sat down, pulling out a folder and spreading it out around him. James sat opposite him and looked at the mission briefs.

 

“I don’t have to tell you how dangerous this will be.” Gone was 009, the joker and pervert. Now here was 009, super agent and favourite of M.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

009 gave James a fleeting grin, and then pointed to the maps.

 

“Target was last located here…”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

It was the third night the small room that sat opposite the meeting place where the rogue terrorist had set up his den. James was sitting by the window, eyeing a thermal imaging camera and noting down the times in a small notebook beside him. So far, there had been no sign, but James new that their intelligence was correct, and so, he would reign in his impatience.

 

“Nothing yet?” 009 asked. He was lying on the small bed in the room, eyes closed and his hands joined over his concave stomach.

 

“Nothing.”

 

009 sighed and sat up, rubbing his face. James didn’t want to question an agent in the field, but he had to ask.

 

“How are you actually planning to get the relevant information?”

 

009 looked up and twisted his back, cracking his spine. “I am going in there.”

 

“How? Based on what Severine told us, the codes are becoming the focus of a bidding war. You don’t have enough money to possibly bid for those codes.”

 

“Ah, James.” 009 grinned. He handed James a card, which James flipped over to reveal the sign of the British Treasury. “You should know that resources in Britain allow us to do just about anything for the safety of the country.”

 

James sighed heavily through his nose and pocketed the card. He went back to the thermal sensor and noted down the time again. The man still hadn’t turned up. He heard 009 move behind him, and was prepared to have to speak to him again. He was not prepared for the lips that softly kissed his neck, and the hands that settled gently on his hips.

 

“It’s been a long time, James. You are very tense.” He whispered, his breath caressing James’ neck. James shivered.

 

“Sir, what are you doing?”

 

“What does it feel like, James?” 009’s hands reached around his trousers and started to fondle the lump in front. James inhaled sharply. 009 continued to caress him, occasionally squeezing when he felt James raising.

 

“I’m not sure that this was part of the mission brief.” James murmured. He put his pen down, and put gentle hands on Tiago’s, not stopping him but holding him still. Tiago grinned against James’ neck and lightly bit the skin.

 

“It was not.” He agreed. “But, you and I are both tense, and I am attracted to you. Why not come to bed with me?”

 

“I’m not gay.”

 

“Ha!” Tiago laughed softly. “It doesn’t matter. You want me, and I you.” He moved James’ hands, and started to unbutton James’ shirt with one hand, whilst the other hand slipped in and started to tweak at his nipple. James arched his chest, and didn’t protest when he was pulled to his feet and was guided to the bed.

 

James was pushed onto the mattress, and then Tiago ripped open his shirt and latched onto his nipple, sucking for all it was worth. James held his head there by his ridiculous head, and groaned softly.

 

“James, James, you taste so good.” Tiago whispered between licks, and James couldn’t correct him.

 

“Rodriguez.”

 

“Sssshhh.” Tiago placed a finger on his lips, smiling softly, before kissing him hard. It was brutal and harsh, and everything James had come to expect from 009.

 

Tiago was undressing quickly, nearly ripping the buttons of his shirt in his desire to get naked. The lights were off, and James could barely see by moonlight. He ran his hands along Tiago’s back, and James felt the scars. Tiago quickly caught his hands and returned them to the sheet, curling his fingers so they gripped the bed spread.

 

“No touching.” There was no passion when Tiago said this. His voice was dead.

 

James quickly removed his trousers and boxers, and nearly shot off the bed when Tiago leaned over and took James into his mouth. He gripped James’ thighs, and hummed gently. James panted heavily; feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He felt nothing, nothing but his body and how it was making him feel.

 

“Stop!” he croaked, and there was a wet _pop_! as Tiago released him. He leaned over the bed and James heard the sound of foil tearing and a bottle cap popping off.

 

It was quick, and rough, and James didn’t touch once, gripping the sheets and gritting his teeth. He could hear Tiago panting hard, grunting as he forced himself to finish for James. James came with a groan, his back arching and his fingers tearing a hole in the sheet.

 

He was coming down from his high, his heart returning to normal, when he felt Tiago still pounding into his body. James frowned, then realised that he hadn’t heard Tiago come. He reached a hand gently up and touched Tiago’s face. It was wet.

 

“I can’t. I can’t.” Tiago panted, and pulled out. He collapsed beside James and thumped the pillow, breathing wetly. James lay in the dark, unsure of what to do. His heart, thought to be long dead, clenched as he heard Tiago gasping. James rolled over onto his side and reached out a hand slowly, touching Tiago’s shoulder. There was a junk of flesh missing.

 

“I-I can help.” He offered lowly. Tiago gave a hitching laugh.

 

“How, James? I have not come for months, what can you do? Even the whores of London avoid me!” He was snarling, his upper lip pulled back in anguish.

 

James didn’t answer. He reached down Tiago’s body, and grasped him. He then grimaced and pulled off the condom, flinging it across the room before reaching down again and squeezing. Tiago groaned and buried his face into James’ neck.

 

James handled him slowly, getting to know what he liked, what was acceptable for him to do. He found himself going slowly and firmly, twisting slightly when he reached the end and making Tiago pant.

 

“James, Corazon, you have such good hands.” Tiago lifted one up and pressed a kiss into the palm, folding the fingers gently even as his hips started thrusting. James kept the pace steady, even as Tiago started moving faster, even as he started to whine gently.

 

James felt the moment that he came. Tiago didn’t make a sound, only bit James hard on the neck and shook. There was very little residue, and James wiped his hand in the sheet before returning it to his side.

 

They lay in the dark, looking at each other, when there was a bleep from the thermal imaging camera, and 009 shot up, jumping over James to look at the screen.

 

“He’s here. James, your clothes, quickly.” He urged, already pulling up his trousers and struggling to find his shirt. James was fumbling around on the floor, trying urgently to find his boxers. They dressed in silence, each of then readying their kit as they prepared the next stage of the operation.

 

They were agents of MI6. Feelings and regret did not exist.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

James eyed the agent from the rooftop of the opposite building, looking through his sights for a clean shot. He could see 009, dressed in an impeccable suit and with his white blond hair slicked back, grinning like a shark as he looked at the launch codes on a computer provided by the agent.

 

“I have them all, what you see is a selection.” The man was sweating gently, and he was wringing his hands. Tiago’s smile was unnerving even from this distance. James smiled and eased the butt of the gun against his shoulder.

 

“Mmmmmm, I see.” 009 leaned over the computer, his hands behind his back. His eyes flickered across the screen, looking for any easy access points and safe guards that he would have the possibility to over ride. The agent behind his was glancing at the door, his eyes shifting nervously.

 

“Is that what you wanted?”

 

“Oh, yes.” 009 replied, standing up right and turning on his heel to face the agent. “That is what I have been looking for.”

 

“The bid is up, 52 million dollars.” The man was pushing for time. There were no other bidders, not since MI6 had closed ranks that morning. He was getting desperate.

 

“One moment.” 009 pulled out his phone and called James. James touched his ear piece.

 

“Don’t touch your ear.” 009 hissed in Spanish.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Do you have clear access from where you are?” 009 carefully said in English.

 

“Yes I have a clear shot. Are the codes there?”

 

009 shot a glance to the agent behind him. “Mmmmmm, all present and correct. Transfer now.” He put the phone down and turned to the agent.

 

“Is the money on its way?” The agent demanded.

 

“Oh yes, you’ll get exactly what’s coming to you,” 009 checked his watch, “right about now.”

 

The bullet shattered the window, entered the agents right temple, exited out his left lower jaw, and buried itself into the ground. The man stood, frozen, for half a second, before his body crumbled in on itself and he collapsed like a house of cards.

 

“Good shot James.”

 

“Thanks. Get the codes and lets get out of here.” 009 fiddled with the computer, then snarled and slammed his hand down on the desk next to it.

 

James frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, packing away the gun and slinging it over his shoulder.

 

“Bastardo encrypted the codes into the mainframe of the computer. Destroyed the disk. All of the codes are sealed to the computer codes and interlinked with the firewall software.”

 

“Bollocks.” James swore. Down below him, 009 was yanking the computer from its power cable and stuffing it into a briefcase.

 

“Q should be able to decrypt it.” 009 heaved the heavy suitcase off the desk and strode towards the doors. James was already dropping down off the side of the building, and he landed next to 009 just as the men left the building. 009 was already on his phone, requesting evacuation.

 

James reflected on his first mission with MI6, and he felt that it had been a success. He liked to think that he had done his job well, and that he had not deviated majorly from the agreed upon plan. He didn’t think about what had happened, because if he did, his stomach would twist slightly. James felt a small stirring of shame that he had witnessed the illusive and famed 009 at his lowest moment.

 

They were waiting by the airstrip, looking to the skies for the plane that would take them to London, when 009 said, without turning to James, “I appreciate what you did for me.”

 

“No problem.” James said, a twist in his mouth.

 

“It was good of you to do so.”

 

There was a silence, when they heard the engines of the plane, when 009 said quietly “If I come to you again, would you let me fuck you?”

 

James didn’t blanch, or turn white, or back away. He didn’t exclaim in horror, or flap his hands wildly. Instead, he nodded once. 009 let out a tiny sigh of relief.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“Q,” Tiago sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the desk, “I need you to decrypt these codes. Sort them out and make them legible.”

 

“Tiago, this is a system I have never seen before, never even heard of! What the hell am I supposed to do with it?”

 

“You’re a clever boy Q.” Tiago smiled tiredly and ruffled Q’s fluffy black hair. “You shall figure something out.”

 

“I’m not as clever as you.” Q muttered, already plugging himself in to the foreign computer. He was about to launch himself in to the mammoth task, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tiago leant down and mumbled gently,

 

“I have faith in you Benjamin. I do, I always have.”


	7. Interlude - Q

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologise enough for the slow update. Life has thrown me a real curveball lately, and I have been paying my dues. Now that I am on some stable ground, however, I get to resume writing this, which I LOVE! 
> 
> A massive thank you to all those people who posted kudo's, commentated and generally had a look-see. You people are what make writing this worth it.
> 
> Warning: Underage sex, prostitution

_Benjamin was 7 years old when his Daddy sat him down in a chair and told him that, because it was his fault that Mummy had left, Benjamin was going to have to take on Mummy’s responsibilities. Benjamin, who was small and thin, glanced over at the stove and pointed out that, even standing on a chair, he couldn’t reach over it to cook._

_He didn’t like the look in his father’s eyes when he said that cooking wasn’t what he had in mind._

_That night, as Benjamin lay in bed, looking at his picture of the inner workings of a tank under the covers, his Daddy entered the room. Benjamin immediately asked when he was naked, and why his willy was stiff and red._

_Benjamin didn’t ask any more questions after that night._

_His Daddy was a noted physicist, something of a big name in Cambridge, where he taught bright young minds so eager to learn. Everyone had heard of him. He had travelled around the world giving lectures, and people cooed over his son, with his shock of black hair and his large grey eyes._

_“He’s so sweet!” They would simper, whilst Benjamin hid behind his father, too ashamed of the love bite on his neck to look up._

_His father would laugh, and slap him on the shoulder. “He’s just shy. Doesn’t want to be anywhere without his dad.”_

_In hotels they would share a bed. “Kid doesn’t want to sleep away since his mother left.” He would whisper to the girl at the check in desk. They would nod their heads and give Benjamin a sad look, whilst he would stare blankly back, internally screaming._

_When Daddy had finished giving a lecture, and he had got lots of applause, and he had had a lot to drink, that was always the worst though. He would make Benjamin ride him, and Benjamin would feel sick, and hot, and ashamed, because he was very clever, and he knew what was happening. He would bounce up and down, and hug his chest, and not cry._

_Benjamin finished his O-Levels when he was 10, and completed his A-Levels by the time he was 12. It didn’t matter. He was the youngest in his class, so he wasn’t allowed to drink. He was too old to have a party, and besides, he didn’t have any friends._

_His father made a mistake on that day, however._

_He bought his son a computer._

_Benjamin had been shared around by his father to his father’s friends. In private collections, there was a series of photographs of a young boy preforming acts upon men that no boy should know about. He had grown up with no friends, no pets, and the one letter he had written to his mother had been returned with a single note included saying ‘YOU BASTARD CHILD, I WISH YOU WERE DEAD.’_

_Benjamin felt the same way._

_But the computer, oh, when Benjamin sat at that keyboard and typed in his name, he felt free._

_Here was something that he understood. Something that would not bore him and grown useless as his toys. Tanks and guns and model airplanes were no longer interesting. Instead, it was hard drives, and software, and the soft click and hum as the computer would connect to the dial up. Benjamin lost hours of sleep staring at the screen, biting his lip in excitement as he examined the safety software and looked at the lines of code running from screen to screen._

_“This is wonderful.” He would whisper to himself. Those nights when he was left alone (which weren’t often), he would go to bed and draw up plans for the next days exploration. It was the only time he would ever smile._

_Benjamin’s father wanted him to study nuclear physics at Cambridge. This was for two reasons. One: he wanted Benjamin to make bombs for the government, and two: he wanted Benjamin by his side._

_He announced this over the dinner table. His son, sitting naked next to him with his father’s hand on his thigh, looked over askance._

_“Dad, I don’t want to study nuclear physics.”_

_His father’s hand tightened warningly, but Benjamin, for once, didn’t heed it._

_“What?” his father rumbled._

_“I want to study engineering.”_

_His father let out a bark of laughter. “No, my boy, no. You will stay here and study what I want.”_

_Maybe it was because he was 13. Maybe it was because he had found courage through code. But Benjamin jumped up from the table and roared back at his father “I WILL STUDY WHAT I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”_

_It was the worst night that Benjamin was ever experienced. Every toy was used, every accessory, and by the end of it, Benjamin couldn’t walk. He was sure that his left arm was broken, and he knew he was bleeding badly. He could feel it trailing down his leg._

_He sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at his father, who was sleeping deeply with his back to Benjamin. For a moment, Benjamin imagined grabbing a silk scarf and tightening it around his father’s throat, choking the life out of him. But the image dispersed, and wincing, Benjamin stood up and made his way to his room._

_His entire life, what really meant to him, fitted into a small hold-all. He pulled on his clothes and balled some underwear into the seat of his jeans, letting it soak in the blood. Then he picked up his bag and, glancing once at his computer, left his house._

_Benjamin was 13 years old. He would never see his father again._

* * *

 

_Tiago sighed loudly and tapped his pen against the desk, causing the other students to turn around and glare at him. His smiled, making them shudder and turn back, and then crashed his head onto the desk in a fit of pique._

_When he had asked M for permission to got to Oxford and study new ground breaking developments in algorithm and firewall cracking, he had been over the moon when she had said he could. “Anything to get you out of my sight.” Were her precise words. So Tiago had gone back to his tastefully decorated by lonely flat, backed a bag and was in his car before the evening had arrived._

_He had arrived the next day from his hotel, clutching a pad of paper and a pen, and ignoring the looks around him as they stared at the man who was at least 10 years older than them. He had ignored them, sat down in a middle row, opened his pad a prepared to take notes._

_Half way through the week, and Tiago was slightly regretting his decision. The subject matter was interesting, and he didn’t regret coming here to learn that. The professor teaching it however…_

_Tiago had heard bankers discussing the stock market who had more charisma._

_Tiago was thinking of calling it a day, when a voice from the back of the class caught his attention._

_“What about a backdoor?” Tiago lifted his head from the desk and turned around. There was a boy sitting in the back of the class, wearing grubby jeans and a hoodie with a jacket over it. He had shaved his hair down to his scalp, and he was squinting at the professor. Tiago glanced at his feet, and saw that his trainers were being held together by masking tape. His backpack next to him was crammed to the brim with clothes, and Tiago could see a sleeping back next to it._

_“Oh shit it’s him.” The student next to Tiago whispered. Tiago frowned. He had never seen this boy before._

_“Young man, this is the third time you have come into my class. If you do not leave, I will ask security to escort you out.” The professor droned. The boys face pulled into an ugly sneer._

_“I only asked a bloody question.”_

_“And as you are not paying for my services, unlike what you do, I am not obliged to listen to you.”_

_The boy turned white, and his lips compressed into a sharp line. He stood up, rammed his paper into his backpack and practically ran to the door. Just before he reached it, he turned back and spouted a stream of code._

_The professor looked outraged. Tiago opened his mouth in wonder._

_It took him several hours to find the boy, and by that time, he could tell that he had already been to late to prevent the inevitable happening. He waited, loitering outside the alley way whilst he listened to the groans and the whimpers coming from a face pressed up against a wall. There was a final loud groan, and then shuffling and the sound of paper being counted. The man strode out, slowly putting on his wedding ring and doing up his fly, and when he was gone, Tiago turned into the alley._

_The boy was leaning against a wall, breathing heavily and running a hand down his scalp. He jumped when he saw Tiago, and then hunched his shoulders and gave him what he assumed was a smouldering look._

_“Want something?”_

_Tiago felt sick. “Solicit me again and I’ll take you to the police station myself.”_

_The boy went defensive. “Then what do you want?” He shuffled on his feet, and Tiago knew enough to recognise a sore arse when he saw it. The boy then peered at him. “You’re the guy from the computer class. Weird one.”_

_Tiago nodded, continuing to look at the boy. ‘Jesus,’ he thought, ‘I bet he doesn’t even have to shave yet.’_

_There was an awkward silence, whilst the boy shuffled, and Tiago continued to look at him. When the boy finally looked like he was about to run, Tiago gestured._

_“Come with me.” The boy looked at him warily, but that changed when Tiago dipped his hand into his pocket and drew out £100. He turned, and the boy picked up his bag and followed him to the hotel._

_The hotel room was nice, with a big double bed and soft furnishings. The boy looked around in wonder, momentarily betraying his age. He then looked at the bed, and his expression hardened. He dropped his bag and began to strip off his clothes. Tiago watched impassionedly until the boy was naked, then he placed a firm hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him towards the bathroom._

_“Shower, now. You stink.”_

_The boy gaped in surprise. “Don’t you want to…?”_

_“I have no interest in little boys.”_

_The boy swelled with indignation. “I’m 16. I’m not little.”_

_“I’m 33. You are a little boy to me. In.” He pushed the boy in and shut the door, pressing his head against the door lock until he heard the hiss of the shower. He went to his desk, and pulled out his laptop. He fiddled on it for 20 minutes, until the door opened and the boy stepped out, a towel around his hips._

_“Dry off.” Tiago said, setting down his laptop and pulling out a spare pair of pyjamas. The boy rubbed himself dry and pulled the set to himself, sighing softly when he felt the brush of soft cotton on his skin._

_“I don’t need a sugar daddy.”_

_“I know.” The boy sat on the bed and stared at his feet. Tiago went over to his laptop and plonked it on the boy’s lap. The boy blinked._

_“Create a back door into the main system.” The boy looked up._

_“Seriously?” he breathed. Tiago nodded. The boy dipped his head, and his fingers went flying._

_Tiago was only just settling down to watch him when the boy announced that he was in. Tiago raised an eyebrow. “That was quick.”_

_“It was easy.” The boy said dismissively. He was staring at the laptop with a hungry expression on his face. Tiago felt a swell of happiness. Was this the one…?_

_“Create a firewall protocol, one that allows only an external access user with the correct name and password to get in to the secure files._

_The boy smiled. “Excellent.”_

_All night, they talked. About everything. And when morning came, and both were red eyed and yawning, and the boy, Benjamin’s fingers were cramping, Tiago smiled tiredly and asked if he wanted to come down to London._

_“I have a job for you. I’ll think you like it.”_

* * *

_M had been alarmed when she had been informed that 009 had let a homeless person into MI6. She had know he was wild, but not mad._

_However, glancing at the situation in the cafeteria, she was going to have to amend her previous thought._

_Tiago was sitting at a table, opposite a scrawny youth who was practically inhaling a bowel of soup. His hood was pulled up, but M could see grey eyes flick back and forth from the door, to Tiago, to his food, and back again. Tiago himself was talking of the weather, pointing out the differences between Spain and England._

_“You haven’t been back to Spain for years.” M pointed out. She strode to the table and pulled up a seat next to Tiago, who immediately leant his head against her shoulder. M frowned and bucked him off. The boy, for it was a boy, looked at them with a quizzical expression._

_“I picked up a pet in Oxford.” Tiago exclaimed happily, gesturing to the boy. M noticed the boy stiffened at being called a ‘pet’, but didn’t argue back. He hunched further over his bowel of soup._

_“I see. Why did you bring him here?” M was irritated that Tiago had flouted basic security protocols and brought a civilian into the heart of MI6. She had thought that he had more sense than that._

_“He is a genius.”_

_M noticed that the tips of the boys ears turned red, but he didn’t look up. Having finished his soup, the boy was now tearing a bread roll to shreds._

_“By your standards he may be, but that gives you no reason to bring him here.”_

_Tiago’s expression went from jovial to serious in a flash, and he gently put a hand on the boys arm. The boy stiffened and sat upright, a look of alarm on his face. M noted with surprise that, although the boy was dressed in shabby clothes, his face was clean and sharp, and his eyes never missed a thing. Tiago smiled gently and leaned over the table to whisper in the boys ear. M could hear every word._

_“I’ll be on the other side of the doors. If you need me, call.” The boy looked wary, but nodded slowly and then shoved Tiago away._

_“Leave me alone.” He muttered. Tiago grinned again and followed M out of the door._

_“Does he look familiar to you?” Tiago asked in a low voice. M didn’t answer, already knowing where this was going. She nodded._

_“Markus Duccan, aka Mikael Vladistok. Nuclear physicist extraordinaire turned traitor. We knew he was working for the Russians but we had no idea that he was selling secrets like this. And,” she looked back into the cafeteria, “we had no idea he had a son.”_

_“He kept the boy secret.” Tiago was looking in the distance, his eyes miles away. M was about to interrupt him when he said, out of the blue, “He hacked into my computer.”_

_M bristled in alarm. “Did he get anything?”_

_“No, I let him.” Tiago was now looking at M out of the corner of his eye, his mouth pulled in tightly in the corners. “He tried to solicit me.”_

_“And I hope that you didn’t let him.” M said sharply._

_Tiago looked horrified. “No, of course not. But, he is troubled, and clever, and I think he would be an asset to MI6.”_

_M considered this. “He couldn’t be an agent. He cannot hide emotions.” Tiago laughed in delight._

_“He is fun like that, no?” he asked, smiling happily._

_“Where would he work?”_

_“Q division.”_

_M scoffed. “He is so young! He would sink.”_

_“No.” Tiago said quickly, shaking his head. “I saw his books, and he is clever and adaptable. I know he could be Q in a few years. With the right training, he could revolutionise MI6.”_

_They stood in silence, looking through the windows at the boy, who was leaning his head on his arms, looking out of the window. M felt a twinge of pity stir her heart, similar to what she felt when she gazed upon a young Tiago, bouncing in his feet with eagerness and with suicidal eyes._

_“He has suffered, M, and I think if you don’t channel it into something good, he will destroy the world.” M had never heard Tiago sound to quiet._

_“Get him changed, find him a flat. He starts tomorrow.”_

_Tiago grinned, and M felt like she may have made the right decision, not only for the boy, R, but for Tiago, and for MI6._

_And for herself._

* * *

 

_James didn’t know what to make of the young man who was marching him up to M’s office, his nostrils flaring with anger. The man was very, very young, with a boys careless disregard with speed and grace, but who was growing in to his lanky frame. James listened, and he could hear the boy muttering under his breath._

_“…bloody foolish man…telling his name to anyone…should be sleeping, the idiot…trouble enough talking as it is…”_

_“Excuse me,” James interrupted, “but would you mind not gripping my arm so tightly.”_

_The man glared at him from under his fringe and squeezed his arm further. James fought a wince. For so scrawny a frame, the boy was surprisingly strong._

_They marched in silence, and James took the opportunity to eye the man. Tall, thin, with clear grey eyes hidden behind obscenely thick glasses. He had a shock of black hair which was fluffy, the kind you ruffled just to see the frizz. James quirked his mouth._

_“What?” The man snapped._

_“Your lover seems to have been happy to see me.”_

_“My lover?”_

_James jerked his head back behind himself. The man went pale._

_“He is not my lover. Now shut up and walk.”_

_James kept his mouth closed for the rest of the journey, and walked up 15 flights to the top floor, where he was parked into a beige seat and told to “Stay, and don’t move an inch.” The man then entered through an oak door and James heard him say, “M, some man got into…”_

_“Broke into Section H, did you?” asked the pretty black woman behind the desk. She didn’t look up, but continued to type._

_“Section H?”_

_“You saw our secret treasure.”_

_James frowned and mulled this over. He waited for about 15 minutes before the man stuck his head around the door and glowered at James._

_“Come in.” James stood up, straightened his suit and went into the office. He was about to close the door when he heard it snap shut behind him. He turned his head and found the man glaring at his back, plastered against the door._

_“Sit down Q.” said the woman behind the desk. James, for the first time in his life, felt nervous._

_Oh God, what had he gotten himself in to?_


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter here. I cannot apologise enough for the slow update. Life has thrown me a real curveball lately, and I have been paying my dues. Now that I am on some stable ground, however, I get to resume writing this, which I LOVE! 
> 
> A massive thank you to all those people who posted kudo's, commentated and generally had a look-see. You people are what make writing this worth it.
> 
>  

Being debriefed by M was not something James ever wanted to go through again, but he knew, if he wanted to become a double-0, then it would be something he would have to put up with. M was ruthless, stripping everything from both 009 and James, excluding their foray into bed together. 009 weathered the storm of questions and demands better than James did, showing nothing but cool, calm detachment. 

“And that target, was it acquired?”

“Yes, M. It is down in Q branch now, being decrypted.” 009 didn’t meet M’s eye, but starred straight ahead.

“And the agent himself?”

“Neutralised by Bond here.” 009 gestured to James, who swelled slightly with pride. A personal mention by 009 could only help his career.

“And did you discover who the agent was working for?”

James felt his stomach sink, and, glancing over at 009’s face, he could see that he had neglected to ask that question as well. The man was looking at M through narrowed eye, pinching his lips in irritation.

“No, M. The agent was neutralised before we had a chance to interrogate him.”

M slammed her hand down on the desk. “Then what the hell was the point of the mission?” she shouted.

“The point was to get the launch codes. We got them.” 

“And we now don’t know who else may have then, or whether the agent was working alone.” 

“Any information that the agent may have had would have been on the computer currently in Q-Branch. Q will be able to get it.”

“And if he does, we will still be one step behind out enemies!”

The silence crept in, and James stood still, fighting the urge to shift uncomfortably. He could sense the tension, as M and Tiago stared at each other, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. M took a big breath and let it out, muttering lowly “I knew it was too soon to let you back in the field.”

009 went white.

“What did you say?” he whispered.

M looked up sharply. “I think that putting you back into the field this soon after your release was a bad idea. Your…experiences…had led to a severe judgement lapse.”

009 inched forward until he was leaning over the desk, his hands balled and pressing into the wood. His teeth were clenched tightly, and oddly, James could hear something squeak from within his mouth.

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed. He pointed a shaking finger at M, who stared coolly back. “Don’t you dare remove me. You know what will happen. You know what I will do.”

“You cannot threaten me 009, I hold your keys to freedom.”

009 snarled. “I have given everything for you! Do not do this to me! Do not!”

“Then don’t force me to!” M was on the verge of screaming, and James was getting distinctly uncomfortable standing there. This was a personal moment, and yet he knew that both of them were aware that he was standing there, looking at them. He felt awkward. 

009 clenched his jaw again, and then, all of then heard something crack loudly. 009’s eye opened wide, and his hands flew to the left side of his face, where the skin was starting to sag.

“Tiago, what’s happened?” She was no longer M, she was someone who Tiago looked up to. It was like a skin being shed, and James marvelled at the difference. Tiago shook his head, his hands preventing his jaw from moving. M pulled his hand away and gently probed his cheek, feeling for damage. She made a soft noise in her throat.

“One of your molars has cracked, hasn’t it?” Tiago nodded his head.

“Right, down to Q, get him to quickly fix it. Obviously you need a new design, I’ll finish debriefing you later.”

“Mmmmm.” Tiago hummed, trying to say her name around a clenched jaw. She looked at him sternly.

“Don’t you bloody dare. You’re the best agent we have, the last thing we need is for you to have problems with your plate. Go, now.” The tiny women pushed him towards the door, looking stern and foreboding. James stood back, looking at the scene with a sense of wonder.

M came back in, sat down at her desk, and, starting to sign papers, said to James, “How did you find him in the field?”

“Competent ma’am. Very brilliant.”

M gave a small smile. She then looked up and fixed James with a look. “I want you to monitor him Bond. You saw him when he first arrived here, I’m not sure that letting him back into the field was a good idea. However, it was either that, or keep him contained, and I don’t want to think about what he could have done all by himself.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure that it was in my brief to observe and report to you regarding 009’s ability in the field.” James grinned at her, looking at her through low eyelids.

“It is not in the brief. If I know 009, and I do, he will request you to aid him on more missions.”

James felt a thrill of joy. More missions meant more notice from the higher ups, which meant more chance of gaining double-0 status more quickly.

“I want you to keep this off the books Bond. Only report to me, and make sure that 009 doesn’t know what you’re doing. I want you to question him, find out about his mental state and make sure that he is still capable of acting as a competent agent for MI6.”

“Ma’am, I did not study psychology.”

“Use what talent you have.” The slow smile spreading over her face nearly sent James blushing, but he was far too well trained to allow that. Instead, he merely stared at her. Letting her know that whatever game she was playing, he knew all about it.

“Is that an order, ma’am?” Gauntlet thrown.

“Yes Bond, it is.” Gauntlet accepted.

 

 

 

Tiago came to James’ house that night, and fucked him, but still wasn’t able to come. 

“Por qué han hecho esto a mí?” He asked the ceiling, thumping his stomach. ‘Why have they done this to me?’ James mentally translated, and felt the same feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Make me come again, James.” It was hard to hear Tiago says this. His face was pulled sharply, and his voice hitched slightly.

“Why should I?” James asked. He had already come, and was leaning back against the pillows, his hand idly caressing the glass of whisky that had been left sitting on his bedside table when he had got up to answer the door. He felt cold, and numb. He kept thinking about what M had said, and how they had acted in her office. 

“Ahhh!” Tiago cried, rolling over and grasping his erection. “Please, I need to come.”

“A question for an orgasm.” James put down his whisky and placed a hand on Tiago’s thigh. He dragged it up slowly, feeling the muscles jump.

“Quid pro quo? Yes, yes please.” Tiago rarely begged. He was begging now.

“My question is this.” James asked, toying with Tiago’s inner thigh. “How long where you captured for?”

Tiago froze. He ignored James and turned over, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his chest. James smiled slowly and draped himself over Tiago’s back, running one hand down his stomach to his hips.

“I can make you come. Tell me.” He whispered.

Tiago sighed heavily. He did not uncurl from the ball he was in, but instead buried his head into the pillow.

“Five months. They kept me for five months.” Tiago murmured. There was no inflection in his voice, no trace of emotion. Nothing to indicate that he had gone through hell. And yet, he couldn’t come.

“Thank you.” James let go of Tiago and rolled onto his back, the smile never leaving his face.

“James, please!” Tiago begged. James didn’t answer.

Tiago responded by swinging a leg over James’ chest and straddling it, glaring aggressively down at James, his hands gripping James’ tightly. He didn’t say anything, but moved his hands towards himself, let James grasp him.

“Mi Dio, thank you.” He sighed, closing his eyes and rocking slightly. 

James knew it wasn’t going to take very long, and sure enough, after a couple of minutes, Tiago braced his hands against James’ chest and shuddered through his orgasm. He panted harshly, and sweat decorated his chest and plastered his hair to his forehead. He collapsed back beside James.

“You seem to have trouble.” James observed wirily.

“Mmmmm, I do.” Tiago agreed drowsily. His eyes were closing, and he was starting to breath deeper, indicating he was going to sleep. James felt a fission of irritation.

“Don’t you have a flat to go to?”

Tiago’s eyes snapped back open and he gave James a flat look.

“Ah yes, I do, don’t I?” Tiago stood up and started to get dressed, pulling on his clothes with care and making sure that nothing had creased. James was still lying naked in bed, watching him through hooded eyes. 

“M suspects I do not have the mental stability for this job.” Tiago announced out of the blue. James wasn’t even surprised Tiago had brought this up. To be honest, he had been expecting it.

“Yes.”

“Mummy worries about things that she shouldn’t.” Tiago was smoothing his hair back, still not looking at James.

James snorted. “If you are not up to the job, you could get someone captured, or worse killed.”

Tiago looked at James sharply. “You said those things in the wrong order, James. Death seems like a luxury compared to what can happen to you.”

James contemplated this, thinking about Tiago, and what he had looked like when James had first laid eyes on him. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘there are some worse things than death.’ James felt slight disgust at humanity sometimes, and knew that this was the job for him. An excuse to vent his unstoppable anger at those who deserved it.

Tiago finished buttoning up his jacket, and turned to face James.

“James, I shall see you again, I think.”

James nodded, stretching slightly and feeling Tiago’s eyes move over him. He smirked.

“Indeed, I hope we shall see more of each other. Sooner rather than later, if you can handle it.”

Tiago grinned, flashed James a wave and went through the door, making sure to lock it securely on his way out. James heard the locks click, and then turned over, drained his whisky and pulled the sheets up to his waist.

James didn’t know what to think. Could an arrangement be made, based on what had happened this evening? James supposed it was possible. It was clear that Tiago had problems, something that James was all too happy to help him with for information. M would be pleased with him. James gently reached out a hand and stroked the area where Tiago had been lying not 10 minutes ago.

“Still warm.” He murmured. He then shook himself and gritted his teeth. He could not allow himself to become soft. His baser feelings excluding anger had all been killed from him, that day in Skyfall as he heard his mother shriek from behind the wooden door.

James turned over, pounded his pillow viciously into shape, and tried to go to sleep, ignoring the thought of Tiago walking back to his lonely flat, shoulders hunched against the rain.

James Bond did not have feelings.

James Bond did not form connections with other people.

James Bond did not comfort anyone.

And James Bond did not want to know a person more than he knew himself.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back. I am so sorry for the long update, but life has been horrible. Don't worry, this story is going to be completed.   
> Kudo's and comments are love.

Tiago sat down heavily in the chair in front of Q, running a hand through his hair and allowing his mask to drop briefly. He was very tired, right down to his bones.

“You shouldn’t go to him.” Q said. He didn’t look at Tiago, but instead focused on the retainer in front of him, sketching slightly and trying to improve the design.

“I don’t know…what…you mean.” Tiago slurred.

Q smirked. “ I know exactly what you did when you got back.” He giggled quietly to himself, and picked up the plate again, turning it over in his hand. He pocked at it, and one side wobbled. 

“You really can’t take care of this, can you? How many has it been now, seven?”

“It’s not…my fault…they break.” Tiago glared at Q, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“I think it is, and I think you do it deliberately.”

There was silence, and Q started to scan his new design into his computer, and Tiago continued to stare at him. Q ignored this, until all of the hairs on the back of his neck were risen, and then he turned to Tiago and snapped “What?”

“I can’t…look?” Tiago asked innocently.

“No you bloody can’t.” Q opened a drawer beside him and shoved a new plate towards him. “Your temporary one. Not as close fitting, but it will stay on.” Tiago picked it up and examined it. It was going to lacerate the inside of his mouth but Tiago knew that it was only for a little while.

“Come back in a couple of days, your new plate should be ready by then.” Q wasn’t looking at him as he said this, too focused on the screen in front of him to do so. Tiago placed the plate in his mouth and sucked, making sure that it sit tightly to his jaw and cheek, and that it was in place before he left. He examined himself in the black screen opposite him and could see no noticeable changes.

“An excellent job, Q.” Tiago stood up and stretched, allowing his spine to crack. He felt deep satisfaction, and twisted to get all of the knots out. Q grimaced at the sound but didn’t turn his head. Tiago felt a small surge of affection towards him and reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Don’t.” Q sounded so threatening, Tiago exited the room laughing.

 

_____________________________________________________

 

6 Months Later

 

It wasn’t, James reflected, the best situation he ever found himself in. Not a fan of bondage anyway, James found himself tied down to a table, legs spread, with a laser burning it’s way up the wood towards his testicles and a psychotic madman obsessed with gold laughing from across the room.

“009, where the hell are you?” James muttered, trying to inch his way up the board and away from the laser making its slow way towards him.

“Enjoying the show.” 009 sounded easy, almost amused, if slightly out of breath. He didn’t mention to James that he had only just arrived, after fighting off a woman with the most ridiculous name he could think of and her entourage of gymnastics.

James had now given up all pretence, and was squirming away. “You expect me to talk?” he yelled, trying desperately to stall for time.

“No, Mr Bond, I expect you to die!” Goldfinger sounded happily insane.

“He is a happy man, is he not James?” 009 asked, as he lined up his sights and focused on Goldfinger through the lens. 

“I am not here to discuss feelings with you, get me off this fucking machine!” James yelled, pulling on his restraints. Yes, James was capable of remaining cool and unemotional, but when there was a laser going to burn off his balls, he thought he could be forgiven for displaying a little concern.

“So desperate James, is it really going to be that bad?” Damn 009, he was laughing.

“Who are you talking to Mr Bond?” Goldfinger asked, coming back to James. He was focused on James’ head, or rather, his ears. James could only hope he wasn’t going to probe and find the comm.

“It’s getting awfully hot in here.” James was good at using humour and changing the subject to deflect a situation, something that he had achieved through years of public school. He could feel the laser near his leg, feel the heat of it, but now he could hear 009 in his ear, lining up the shot, he no longer felt that afraid.

“Mr Bond,” Goldfinger sounded irritated, “I recommend you do not laugh at your situation.”

“Who says I was laughing?”

James heard the glass shatter, and the line of heat perilously close to his crotch was switched off. Goldfinger didn’t even know what had happened before he was felled by a shot through the head. James let out a tiny sigh of relief.

“Took you long enough.” He said, hearing 009 come in through the window. He turned his head.

“Got into a scrape?”

009 grinned and wiped the blood from his lips. He put his gun over his shoulder and started to undo the restraints.

“That pilot has a mean high kick.” He laughed and pulled James to his feet. He then knelt and felt up James’ legs.

“Here?” James asked, smirking.

“You got burned. I’m checking for abrasions. And open wounds.”

“And seeing whether I am still all intact.” 009 didn’t look up, but he nuzzled James’ leg. He sighed softly, and James would not have felt it at all, if his trousers weren’t open and his flesh cold.

James felt something cold turn in the pit of his stomach, and he gripped 009’s shoulders and hauled him upright.

“Not here.” 

 

_____________________________________

 

Tiago rode him hard, that night, and gripped his hair tightly, preventing James from taking a full breath. James gritted his teeth and refused to cry out, even though he had been improperly prepared and his hair was leaving his scalp individually.

“Do not test me James.” Tiago grunted, forcing James hard against his hips and burying his fingers into the flesh on James’ hip.

“Test you? How?” James asked. He pushed himself upright onto his hands, and met Tiago thrust for thrust.

“That girl, Jill.”

“Nothing, just a fuck.”

If anything, Tiago went faster. James came, arching his back in pleasure, and Tiago tried to continue, but as usual, couldn’t.

James turned over and asked “Why is Jill annoying you?” 

Tiago glared at him and tried to sit up, but couldn’t through the pain in his crotch. He winced and tried to grab James’ hand. James frowned and pulled his hand back.

“Answer the question.”

Tiago squirmed and then said “You went to her and did not tell me.” He snarled at James, grabbed his hand again and put it on his cock. James got him off in less than a minute.

They lay in silence for a while, both breathing heavily. James thought about what Tiago had said.

“You need to tell me where you go. I am supposed to be evaluating you.” Tiago said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. James felt irritated.

“You bugger off plenty of times and never tell me. I thought it was time to return the favour.” 

Tiago sighed. “It is not the same.” James snorted in derision.

“Believe what you want James. I seek to see you remain alive, despite what you may think.” 

Tiago stood up, put on his robe, and left the room, leaving James to ponder what Tiago had just said, and feel the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach rose to his chest as he looked at the closed door Tiago had just left by. For the first time in a long time, James felt scared.

 

___________________________________________

 

“James should be moved to double-0 status.”

M was lucky she wasn’t drinking anything at that moment, because she would have sprayed it across the table at Tiago. Tiago could see the reaction waiting to happen though, and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“On what grounds do you think that Bond should be made a double-0?” she asked, feeling her heart beating quickly in her chest. It had been so long since Tiago had expressed a professional interest in anyone, she was intrigued to know what is was about him that made Tiago sound so confident about his decision.

“He is a good agent, clear and focused.” Tiago stretched in his chair, and looked out of her window, seeing something else other than the skyline.

“In the months you have spent working with him, you have formed such a strong opinion of him as to ask for his promotion? Forgive me, but all I see is someone doing his job. Not exactly double-0 worthy.” M felt a headache coming on. It was an argument that she had felt coming for a while.

“You do not work with him.”

“I see the results. That business with Carver was an ugly mess.”

Tiago sneered. “If James felt it prudent to go after the media man, then why should I stop him?”

“Your brief was to find out his connection with the HMS Devonshire and the subsequent sinking in Chinese waters. It was NOT to go into his place of business in Hong Kong and disrupt delicate relations between China and the UK!” M shouted. She was still smoothing things over.

“If we had not stopped him, relations between our two countries would be even more difficult.” Tiago was defensive, even though he privately agreed that the job in China had been an ugly mess.

“His track record is not fantastic. After Carver there was Graves, which you both managed to bungle AND get a top agent killed.”

Tiago pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He still felt a bit ill when he thought about how James had been duped by Frost, and how it meant that he had almost been captured by the Koreans. Tiago had occasional knowledge and first hand experience of Korean torture methods, and he wouldn’t wish it anyone, let alone James.

“I don’t see why you could see that he qualifies for double-0 status.”

Tiago shrugged. “He gets the jobs done, does he not? He knows what to do and tries to keep MI6’s reputation clean.”

“A good reputation is useless to us if the agent carrying it out is liable to go rogue at the first time of opportunity.”

“I could have gone rogue.”

M didn’t say anything. She couldn’t meet Tiago’s yes, and Tiago knew that she was thinking about the months he was missing, and how she could do nothing. Her hands were tied by the government she served, and damn if it didn’t grate when she thought about it.

“Tiago,” she said softly, getting his attention, “I may not know him as you do, but your report of his conduct in the field is really all I have to rely on when I make my decision.”

“I have not been compromised, I assure you.” Tiago snapped, straightening in his chair.

“I wasn’t saying that. I’m only saying that if he has a chance to be promoted to double-0, then he has prove himself to myself and others.”

“Something solo.” Tiago frowned as he thought about it.

“Indeed.” M stood up and went to her drinks cabinet, pouring herself a large scotch and Tiago a small glass of sherry. “I have no doubt of his abilities. I know he can get the job done. It’s whether he can get the job done cleanly and efficiently which is what is going to make him.”

Tiago took the sherry and sipped it, deep in thought. He settled himself deep into the chair and cradled that glass between his large hands, rolling it back and forth and watching the deep amber liquid swirl back and forth. He seemed mesmerised by the movement.

“I agree with you.” He said at last. He didn’t look up, but continued to stare into his sherry. M pursed her lips and put a hand on his, stopping his movement.

“Tiago, I trust your judgement.”

Tiago gave her a small smile. “I have exceptional judgement Mummy.” He gulped his sherry and stood up. “I am glad you will consider what I have said.”

M scowled. “I am doing this for the future of MI6, not as a favour to you.” She felt vaguely irritated that she was being manipulated into even considering Bond by her impudent favourite, but she had to agree that his idea had merit. She eyed Tiago as he turned to go out of the room, gathering his coat and sweeping it over his shoulders. She thought that he still looked a bit thin, and tired, and she could see the tension in his shoulders.

“Tiago, I would rather see you come into the office at full strength than not at all. You’re useless to us if you cannot handle the strain.”

Tiago turned and looked at her, his tiny boss standing behind her desk, holding together the peace of Britain by the strength of her will and the strength of those people she commanded. He smiled softly.

“You sleep peacefully as well, Mother.” He closed the door softly, and M let out a gentle breath, looking down at his file in front of her, and closing it. He was still fit for duty. She knew it, better than anyone else in MI6.

 

____________________________________________

 

There was a breach, important information had been leaked. Tiago had spotted it, in an email that only the PM should have been able to read. He had hacked into it for fun, when he was woken up that night with his fingernails burning and his throat dry. M had been aware, and had been furious when the leaked information had killed 14 agents and 003 in the field, she had ordered 009 to her office.

“I want him to find out who, their contact, and eliminate them.”

009 nodded, already thinking about the how, the why and the where. This was what he was trained for, this was what he had resisted 5 months of torture to get back to do. 

Then, what M had said hit him, and Tiago slowly smiled at her.

“James?” 

M nodded. “You’re right. He is ready.” She handed Tiago the file. “You can observe, but not interfere.” Tiago nodded and flicked through the file. There was nothing in there other than the facts, all of which Tiago had reported.

“What has Q found?”

“Nothing, nothing that you haven’t already discovered. Information has been siphoned off, slowly, something that has been happening for months without us noticing. The last drop of information was two weeks ago and that resulted in the debacle in Islamabad.”

Tiago nodded and sat down, studying the file. He had a suspect, he knew who possibly may be doing this, but would James figure it out?

“What do you think?” M stood behind her desk, bracing herself on the top and eyeing Tiago.

“I think,” Tiago said slowly, “that James will do very well.”


End file.
